


Dictionary

by scarecrow_horses



Series: OT3s and Other Buffy'verse Things [5]
Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:20:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25079032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarecrow_horses/pseuds/scarecrow_horses
Summary: Another for 2011.  A post-everything fic, no real notion of *when* it is.
Relationships: Xander Harris/Daniel "Oz" Osbourne/Spike
Series: OT3s and Other Buffy'verse Things [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072640
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	Dictionary

**Author's Note:**

> Another for 2011. A post-everything fic, no real notion of *when* it is.

.

.  
_Not syzygy,_ Oz thought, but maybe serendipity.

Things coming together, this one and that one and the next, like pearls on a string. _That_ was syzygy, and it _was_ that, but serendipity was better, because.... A fortunate, accidental thing. And this was _that_ , even more so than the other.

Oz shifted a little, pleased that he'd settled on a word; a word was important. He liked to file things away like that, so that he could come back to them simply and neatly. It had made Willow crazy, once upon a time, when he'd distill everything down to one word, when everyone else would talk and talk and talk it to death. 

He shifted again, and settled closer to the heat that was soaking into his back; Xander-heat, that made him shiver. That wasn't quite an oxymoron, but fairly close. He blamed Wesley for this plethora of words that were pouring through him. Wesley standing in the Hyperion lobby, arms akimbo and an expression of discombobulation. 

Moving day, and his precious books were being stacked and packed and sent _out_ , and that Fred girl, a flibbertigibbet with a veil of brown hair, laughing at Wes's persnickety look. At Wes's cursing in ten demon tongues, watching Oz read through one of his dictionaries with twitching hands.  
Spike - and wasn't Spike _dead_? - poking and prodding and being generally obstreperous, making remarks about Xander, who stood by the door and looked tired. Looked like Oz felt, in the aftermath of all things Sunnydale.

_Never expected to outlive the place. Guess Xander didn't either. Never expected **Spike** to be the hero. Guess that pisses Angel off._

Oz juxtaposed that scene in his head with the image, minutes old, of Xander curling up into Spike, and kissing him for all he was worth, as Spike's hands stroked over Oz's belly, and his hips slid in oiled and breathtaking precision, making mockery of Oz and Xander's trembling, too-eager clutching.

 _Galoots. That's what we are. And Spike's the snake in our hen-house._

_That_ made Oz laugh, and Spike rolled over and crowded his face into Oz's neck, and Xander's hand slipped from hip to hip, and Oz laughed again.  
Serendipity.


End file.
